#interactions // jesse reeves ( stormlit )

[devourcr]

this isn't the first time he's seen her. he saw her in new orleans — shortly after the book's release, an unexpected human in the dilapidated home that had belonged to louis and lestat. at the time, he favored the shadows and his solitude. he thought going to new orleans might give him some clarity. he was drawn to it, perhaps still chasing louis in spirit. perhaps hunting lestat in his fallen state. reasons didn't matter, but what did matter was jesse.

had the book garnered her attention? or had the book simply given those like her more threads to follow? while he'd known of the talamasca, they were typically inconsequential ( he'd thought ). and he can't find the answers in her thoughts, hitting a wall instead — a wall that only heightens his curiosity.

( he leaves new orleans shortly after she does. )

the fact that they're both in new york is yet another coincidence.

to most, he is nobody. he sits alone at a corner table, pretending to read a tattered, over-read copy of daniel's book, sipping at a bitter, warm mug. while his eyes skim over the words, he's listening to their conversation. jesse and her parents. the rest of the cafe becomes a faint hum in the background and the only time he lifts his gaze is to meet hers. although he's watched her before, it's the first time he's chosen to be seen. he waits patiently for their little meeting to end, for goodbyes to be said between parents and daughter, and when they leave, armand makes eye contact yet again.

he extends a hand of invitation, gesturing to the chair across from him.

@stormlit, a 🟠_🟠 starter.

[devourcr]

vampire. it's not an accusation, but a fact, and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. given what he'd witnessed in new orleans, he's not shocked by her lack of fear. the paranormal clearly wasn't foreign to her, but he can't know for sure if she understands who or what is sitting in front of her at the table. the truth is that he doesn't mean her any harm. he's curious. perhaps as curious of her as she might be of him.

❝ you were looking for vampires, weren't you? on royal street? ❞

he can feel her tugging at the memories, as if greedy for more information. at times, speaking through his mind is as simple as using his voice. he'd embraced the powers given to him as a vampire and in 500 years, he'd only honed his abilities to be that much stronger. what's strange is to have a human with the ability to try to navigate the imagery he sends her. and while psychics weren't unknown to him, he hadn't spent much time in their presence either.

while he blocks her from his own motivations, to knowing too much of himself, he chooses to respond with more imagery. images of lestat on 18th century parisian streets, louis and claudia standing at the base of the theatre stairs ( all before his impact was made ). his relationship with the trio had drawn him to new orleans, but it was jesse that had caught his attention.

❝ sorry, i've been rude, ❞ he states suddenly, putting an immediate stop to the images. ❝ i'm armand. ❞

what is this? that, more than anything else, is what jesse wants to know. she's not stupid, well aware that there are several things about her that might make her interesting to someone who is clearly wearing his supernatural nature with pride...but she has never seen this man before. is it what she is — psychic, talamasca, the great family — or what he wants from her? there's no way to be sure, without speaking to him. and that, jesse is well aware, would be an extremely stupid decision.

she's been making a lot of those, recently.

❝ i am not most humans, ❞ comes the reply, tongue sharp more as a defence than anything else, because there is a beat, and then jesse adds, ❝ vampire. ❞ he is, isn't he? he has to be. is she afraid? she doesn't think she is. intrigued, maybe. morbidly curious, absolutely, but scared? he is not the first vampire she's met, it seems—just the first she's been aware of. and if the talamasca has taught jesse anything, it's to be prepared. always watching. always ready. always here. but they would tell her to step back, to observe only, not to engage. after new orleans, especially. but new orleans is why she needs answers.

and it seems she's not alone. does she have information the vampire wants, too? jesse leans back in her chair, arms folded, looking at him; she grabs hold of the images he sends her, tugging at them, trying to follow them further back, to his motivation for being there. was it her, or the house? or mere coincidence, the blocked mind of a psychic passing him on the street? ❝ what's it to you? ❞

[devourcr]

he had no backup plan in mind. if jesse had resisted him, he wouldn't have let it die there, but he'd had confidence that she wouldn't. armand knows his presence is disconcerting, at best. she might not know who or what he was, but even humans far more disconnected from the supernatural than she was could sometimes sense something amiss. protection from a predator, he supposes ( even if it was often hopeless ). just as the curiosity drew him to her, he wants to pull her in too.

his fingers tap idly on the ceramic sides of his mug as she draws closer.

it's different. while he's used to barring his mind from other vampires, he isn't used to a human's mind prodding at his own ( though, he's spent limited time around psychics for it to happen ). he opens his mind to hers, offering a vision of herself in new orleans, in stripping wallpaper and digging through the walls of the forgotten home of the happy new orleans trio. it's jesse through armand's eyes. he can't know how he seems to her, nor what it feels like in his presence.

❝ apologies, ❞ he offers with a touch of a smile, genuine in its politeness but not in the message. he would do it again the same if need be. ❝ most humans don't take notice. ❞ there was no harm or offense when they didn't know it happened in the first place. armand pauses, amber eyes studying her, the curiosity still burning behind his gaze. if he was honest, stalking her through new york had been a nice distraction. ❝ most would have walked past that abandoned hovel. tell me, were you satisfied with what you found there? ❞

something had happened there and that had been as much as he really knew. something more than the unease he'd felt being so close to their home, so close to louis, lestat, and claudia. it was a piece of them he'd only heard through louis — pieces he'd never known, despite knowing all three. jesse's presence had helped distract him from despair or anger, recalling what he'd lost.

how strange it is to be home again—if, of course, new york is even home, anymore. this isn't the first time jesse's been back, with vacations and holidays spent here, but it's the first time in over a decade she's been to stay for an extended period. perhaps forever. jesse misses london, but she doesn't know if she can ever go back, now, if she can walk through the doors of the motherhouse and get on with her life while knowing that her entire worldview has been altered. would they even want her? for the first time in her life, she broke the rules.

it had felt right, curiosity getting the better of her. she's not yet figured out if it really was.

it's good, at least, to be able to spend some real time with her parents, especially now she's moved back to her own house in the village, instead of camping out in her childhood bedroom like a little girl afraid of her own nightmares. jesse cannot trust her own mind, right now, but there has been an unsettled feeling hanging over her, ever since she got back. it's almost like she's being watched, and not for the first time, but none of the people in the café have ill intent towards her, not that she can sense, and it's not the spirits.

it feels familiar. it feels like a beacon. it feels like she wants to run away from it.

so, of course, she does the opposite. it's a psychic connection before it's a visual one, though there are no words shared between them; when her eyes meet his, jesse is hit by realisation all at once. this is not the first time. for a moment, all she does is stare at him, but then she walks over, her mind reaching for his as she sits. she's seeking confirmation of something, more than she's trying to read his thoughts.

❝ you were in new orleans. you tried to get inside my head. ❞